The Dali Deception

by Adam Maxwell

  Happy that she had what she needed, Zoe looked at her watch. Three minutes left. Time to get herself lost.

  Treading softly, Zoe made her way to the archway that led out of the room containing the painting. She stood for a moment, listening, and could hear Miss Lester had taken Zoe’s gift of communication and was currently using it to abuse one of her fellow employees.

  “Do you have any idea how much a mistake like that could cost us?” she shouted into the telephone.

  Zoe stepped into the main hallway. The place was positively palatial. Would she be able to map the whole thing in three minutes? She wasn’t sure, but she had to start somewhere and moved quickly off in the opposite direction to Miss Lester.

  The next room down from the main atrium seemed to be some sort of closet, holding coats, umbrellas and shoes. She darted inside, turned slowly, allowing the camera to drink in as much as possible and then quickly stepped out into the atrium again.

  And so it continued through room after room, all the while keeping her ears pricked up for Miss Lester's pacing and shouting. Zoe visited the rooms in turn: the kitchen, the bathroom, guest rooms, a game room and even a bathroom with a baffling abundance of bidets. Finally she found herself entering the room directly next to the one which contained Miss Lester. Zoe was in the master bedroom.

  It was dark when she entered, so Zoe flicked the light switch and the room lit up. It was, in keeping with the rest of the place, absolutely massive. In the centre of the far wall was a queen size bed, she could see a walk-in wardrobe, a desk, en‑suite bathroom; she was pretty sure that this room was bigger than her last flat. Looking at her watch once more, Zoe realised that her six minutes were up, but she could still hear the irate ranting of Miss Lester, so figured she could map the rest of this room before...

  There was an unfamiliar noise out in the hallway. Footsteps. And they weren’t Miss Lester’s, they were too heavy. Zoe panicked and stumbled into the en-suite bathroom, the heavy footsteps getting nearer by the second. She glanced around, her eyes quickly becoming accustomed to the half-darkness. This was a room in which she definitely didn’t want to be discovered.

  “Mr Glass,” Miss Lester’s voice, calm, polite and just a little slimy.

  There was a grunt of acknowledgement but the footsteps did not slow.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment,” Miss Lester continued. “I just need to send a couple of quick emails to resolve an issue I’ve been dealing with.”

  Another grunt. Closer to Zoe this time. And then the footsteps stopped as they hit the carpet of the master bedroom. Zoe moved away from the bathroom door and pressed her back against the wall. On the opposite wall was a mirror and she could see the banker in the bedroom. And in his hand was a gun.

  Zoe clamped her hand over her mouth. It had all been going so smoothly and now she was going to end up shot. She stared at the mirror, watching him stalk across the room towards the bathroom door. How could he see her there, in the darkness? The cameras? Perhaps.

  Taking her hand from her mouth, Zoe prepared herself to round on him as soon as he entered the bathroom. What would she do? Wrestle the gun from him? Grab his wrist?

  Rollo Glass took two more steps toward the bathroom then turned and walked up to the side of the bed. He sat down on the corner with his back to the bathroom. Zoe stared, mentally plotting where the door to the bedroom was. She had to make a move. He didn’t know she was there. She had to get back to the relative safety of the hall, otherwise...

  Otherwise he might actually use the damn gun.

  Zoe held her breath and padded out of the bathroom and towards the door of the bedroom. There was a metallic click and Zoe froze, imagining the hammer being cocked on the weapon. But a glance over her shoulder revealed nothing more than the banker unlocking an ornate box. As he placed the pistol inside, Zoe left the room and, hardly caring about the exact location of Miss Lester, darted straight back to the painting. She stood, staring, her back to the door and her heart in her mouth.

  Zoe stared at the painting and waited. Waited for the hand on her shoulder, for Rollo Glass to come in and confront her about her little trip off-piste in his underground lair. She waited for Miss Lester to come in and whisk her outside with a never darken our doorstep, you’re lucky we don’t call the police.

  Zoe kept staring at the painting. She kept waiting. After a while she shuffled her feet a little to ward off pins and needles, as standing so still was starting to make her uncomfortable. God, that painting was boring. How long had she been staring at it now? Had they forgotten about her?

  She kept... oh fuck it... she was bored. Where was that bitch Lester?

  Zoe slowly wandered out into the main hallway.

  “Hello?” said Zoe.

  Nothing.

  Her eyes flashed left and right. Some of the lights were out in a couple of the rooms she had been in. In fact it was as if...

  Everything went dark.

  Zoe screamed.

  It was a scream of I’m still here as much as a scream of fear. It wasn’t fear. Was it? Or was it the fact that it was so dark down there that it didn’t feel like night, it felt more like a suffocating death?

  Zoe put her hands out in front of herself and swung around in the direction she remembered the front door had been. Taking the smallest, shuffling steps she edged herself forward. What the fuck was going on? Was this a trap? A punishment? A pre-emptive strike?

  Stumbling into the void, Zoe suddenly remembered the tablet she was carrying. A tablet that had a camera... that had a flash... that she could...

  The front door of the flat opened and light spilled into the cavern like luminous milk.

  “Oh God,” Miss Lester’s voice echoed around Zoe’s temporary subterranean prison. “I’m so sorry. I got caught up with Mr Glass’ business.”

  Zoe blinked her eyes, trying to get them to remember how to focus again.

  “Please don’t sue us,” said Miss Lester sheepishly.

  22nd September

  * * *

  2 1/2 weeks to go…

  Chapter 27

  Two days had passed since Zoe pulled the surveillance job on the banker's flat. Given all the possible things that could have gone wrong, Violet knew that so far the plan had held. The players were playing their parts, the game was, as the saying goes, was on.

  Except something had become apparent from the moment Violet had stepped out of the meeting with Fegan and taken on the job for the first time. Violet knew that there was someone she was going to have to deal with. The more the plan for the Dali job had come together in her head, the more she had known that she would stay in Kilchester and the more necessary it would become to deal with her ex.

  Percy Parkin, the slippery fuck, was a boil on the arse of Kilchester and Violet had come to the conclusion pretty early on that he would need to be lanced if she were ever going to stay. And she wanted to stay. She had missed this, the hunt, the chase, the thrill of the job. Violet wondered whether Fegan had really realised the gauntlet he had thrown down. In all probability, a challenge like this was the one thing likely to suck her back into the game and back into the city.

  The city her ex-boyfriend had tried to kill her in.

  Eighteen months was a long time to dwell on how to respond to something like that. And Violet had run through most possibilities. Killing him had remained top of the list for a very long time. She would daydream ways: new, inventive, painful ways of offing him and newer, even more inventive ways of disposing of his worthless corpse.

  But after a while even that had lost its appeal.

  Mostly.

  These days she veered more towards wanting what she'd read in various horrendous lifestyle magazines was called 'closure'. And whether that closure was achieved with or without the use of violence, well, she was less concerned about that.

  For Violet, before any plans regarding Percy came to fruition, she needed to confront him, to hear if there was anything that he might be able to offer by way of e
xplanation. For him to look her in the eye and tell her why. And so she’d organised to meet him. Katie thought it was a bad idea. And had said so. Or rather, she hadn't said so, but Violet could tell. Katie oozed disapproval of the whole idea.

  And, of course, there was the fact that he had tried to, at best, get her arrested or, at worst, have her killed. Some very real reasons to be wary of Percy.

  After lifting the canvases from the museum Violet had bought a burner phone and texted Percy from it.

  This is V. I'm in town and we need to talk.

  He got the text, she knew that because she had been following him surreptitiously and watched him check his phone. She was surprised at how unmoved she was, seeing him for the first time since the last time.

  When she left the house to do the job that day, how had she felt? Had she loved him? She couldn't remember any more. When she thought back to their time together it was... foggy. Unclear. Certainly she remembered him saying it.

  But now he was a loose end. And to stay she had to know that loose end wasn't going to wrap around her legs and drag her under.

  He responded to the text the next day.

  Nothing to talk about. See you around I expect.

  She made a point of not over-analysing that. Left it a few hours and texted again.

  2pm tomorrow. Cafe in the Park. Unless you'd prefer I find you?

  A threat. Whatever aspects of Percy's personality Violet had liked back when they were together, she had always known that he was a coward. Twenty minutes later and she had her response.

  Fine. I'll be there.

  Violet had chosen the Cafe in the Park for one simple reason. People.

  It was always packed and that meant protection for both of them, because neither would risk pulling anything in such a crowded place. Of course, the fact that it was in the park also meant that, should escape be required, there was also plenty of cover. A win-win.

  *

  Eleven days had passed since Percy Parkin had received the phonecall from Damien telling him that Violet was back in Kilchester. Given all the possible things that could have happened to him at that moment in time, her return was a minor irritation – but an irritation nonetheless. How long had it been? A year and a half since he got rid of her?

  Except he hadn’t got rid of her. As plans went it had been, he thought, a pretty well thought out one. He had met that girl. What was she called again? He couldn’t remember but at the time he’d been with Violet and that bitch had become such a fucking downer, sucking the fun out of his life.

  Patricia? Was that her name? She was young, she liked to fuck and, at the time, it’d seemed that was enough. All he had to do was get rid of his current girlfriend. Only Violet could be difficult. Really fucking difficult. That was what had pushed him towards the other woman.

  Paula? No. That wasn’t it.

  But Violet was back in his city. The city he’d tried to have her locked up in.

  Even after eighteen months she’d be pissed off about that. And Percy had seen her pretty pissed off in his time. He wasn’t entirely convinced that she would rule out trying to kill him. But it had been so long since he thought about any of it. It was like a daydream of another life. At the time he was still working freelance, before he really got in the game and started working for Big Terry.

  Pippa? Maybe that was her name. She was the one who came up with the idea. Percy had wanted to stay with Violet, wait until she got the cash from the diamond heist then get it spent and kick her out on her arse. But Poppy... was that her name? She had insisted that this was a better idea. That was just like a woman, Percy thought. Blackmailed him with sex and then threw the competition in jail.

  It seemed to make some kind of sense at the time.

  Paige? Whatever her name was. She was new, without the baggage that Violet came with. At the time. And Percy had been trying to decide how to react to Violet’s return for nearly a fortnight when beep.

  This is V. I’m in town and we need to talk.

  He got the text when he was coming back from the pub. Didn’t want to text back pissed because if she was contacting him Violet was most likely a fucking powder keg. By the time he sobered up he’d forgotten he’d got the damn message. Then opened his phone and just couldn’t be arsed with her shit.

  Nothing to talk about. See you around I expect.

  That was it, he thought at the time. Problem dealt with. Showed her who was boss, kept the door open if they ever ended up doing business in the future. Now back to bed.

  He was jolted from sleep a couple of hours later when she texted again.

  2pm tomorrow. Cafe in the Park. Unless you'd prefer I find you?

  Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Had Phyllis ever been this high maintenance? He couldn’t remember. Wasn’t even sure if her name was Phyllis. All Violet ever wanted to do was talk. That was half the problem. What was there to talk about?

  For all he knew she had spent the last year and a half at fucking ninja school. Well, it looked like it was time to clear the air. And at least she had chosen somewhere public. He’d have to case the place first, of course, but it showed a degree of reconciliation on her part. Maybe she didn’t even realise he’d called the police.

  No, that wasn’t going to wash.

  Fine. I’ll be there.

  This was going to be a fucking nightmare. However he came out of it, all he could see was him losing. Looking like an idiot, getting jumped by someone on some stupid fucking crew she’d assembled. Well, he’d be ready. And armed. Because... ninjas.

  23rd September

  * * *

  Still 2 1/2 weeks to go…

  Chapter 28

  Percy had done his due diligence inasmuch as he had done a couple of laps of the pathways surrounding the Cafe in the Park. He wasn’t usually this careful but had a sense that this time he might need to be. Anyway, he hadn’t found anything unusual. No ninjas. No ambush to speak of.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill that had begun to descend. The weather was supposed to be sunny. But this was autumn and, well... it was bastard freezing. In the left hand pocket of his jacket was his protection, a flick-knife that made him feel like he was in a mafia movie.

  In spite of the relatively short distance, Percy’s breathing was heavy. He was out of shape. Not ‘so fat you need a wall taken out to leave your house’ out of shape. More ‘too many pies’ out of shape. As he came into view of the cafe he immediately saw her at the table in the window. She certainly wasn’t out of shape. In fact she was in better shape than a year and a half ago. Maybe this could be the start of something new between them. He put on his most alluring smile and walked through the door and towards the table.

  “You can wipe that stupid look off your face for a start,” Violet stated matter-of-factly. “Because that ship has sailed.”

  Percy sat down, pretended she hadn’t said anything. “Violet,” he said. “What do you want? Why have you dragged me to this fucking awful place?”

  “Sit down,” said Violet. A command, not an invitation. “I ordered you black coffee. That still how you take it?”

  Percy nodded. “You looking to come back?”

  “I am back.”

  “You back to work?”

  Violet nodded.

  A waitress arrived with their drinks, Violet’s espresso cup dwarfed by Percy’s large coffee.

  “Better be careful who you choose for your crew,” said Percy as the waitress picked her way through the tightly packed tables, back towards the counter. “Make sure you don’t get some guy who’s only looking to fuck up, get busted back to prison.”

  Violet stared at him, her palms flat on the table, the fury rising inside her. She knew what he was getting at, making out it was her fault the diamond heist had fucked up.

  “You’ve worked with some small-time mindwrongs in your time,” said Violet.

  Percy opened his mouth to speak, but Violet shot right in there.

  “You ever see me knocking off
an off-license for a laugh with a ‘Born To Lose’ tattoo on my chest?” Violet spat the words at him like bullets.

  “Might improve those saggy tits of yours,” Percy sneered and then he shouted, “Prunella!”

  “What!?” Violet simultaneously incandescent with rage and completely blindsided by his outburst.

  “I’ve been trying to remember her name since you texted me, sorry,” Percy laughed and lounged back in his chair, apparently oblivious to the trouble he was stirring.

  “Who?” was all Violet said.

  “Oh, er,” Percy stumbled over how to describe her. “Your replacement.”

  Violet’s mind raced back to the heist, the phonecall, the woman’s voice in the background.

  “Percy.” Violet took a deep breath. “Listen to me, you prick.”

  Percy lost just a little of his bravado.

  “I’m coming back to Kilchester. I’m going to do what I do best here, and if you want to continue doing what you do best then we need to resolve this.”

  “This what?” Percy could hear it in his own voice: the swagger was evaporating. Violet was different. She was cold. Driven.

  “I need you to listen. And I need you to think before you speak. I know this does not come naturally to you but I am this close to putting you through that window right now.”

  Percy squirmed in his seat but, unfortunately, he believed her, so figured he would listen. Curse those potential ninja skills.

  “That night. You called the police.”

  Percy lifted the coffee to his lips and blew on it.

  “It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest that you had neither the spine to break it off with me in person nor the intelligence to get me arrested.” Violet could feel herself losing it. “It surprises me even less that you had forgotten the name of the girl that was my replacement.” She needed to keep a lid on. At least for now. “I mean what sort of person tries to have his girlfriend arrested rather than break up with her... No... don’t answer that. It’s a rhetorical question.”